


Sam Knows

by goldilocks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldilocks/pseuds/goldilocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam really wants his older brother to come watch him at the talent show. He also knows that's as likely to happen as them ever having a normal life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam Knows

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this two years ago and I'd never have even remembered I'd ever written it had my best friend not asked me where my old SPN drabbles were. So I decided to post one of them here too.

Sam knows better than to wake his big brother up during his afternoon nap (no, not a nap, he corrects himself,  _a power boost_ ) and bug him with his ‘kiddy problems’, as Dean calls them. He also knows it’s probably pointless to even try asking him to come to the talent show this Friday, especially since the place will be crawling with proud mothers, overly perfumed aunts and impatient, loud young siblings. And if there’s anything Dean cannot stand it’s cranky children kicking the seat behind you before accidentally wetting themselves because they can’t wait till the performance is over to make pee-pee.

In all honesty, there is nothing Sam would want more than to see his own Dad sitting in the audience alongside his classmates’ parents, only there are two minor problems. One, Dad’s not around at the moment. Nothing new there. He is away on a hunting trip, chasing down – what was it this time – oh, yes, a skinwalker in a nearby town, while Sam and Dean are home alone (if you can call a two-star motel a home), trying to get through yet another month of new surroundings before they head for their next destination. And two, even if he _were_ here, Dad doesn’t really do all that school-related parentsy stuff. Mostly because they never stick around in the same place for more than a couple of months and he doesn’t see the point in fraternizing with school staff when they will soon be hitting the road again and the faces of his sons’ teachers will almost instantly turn into expressionless blurs in his mind.

So Sam knows that, if there’s one person who could in theory come to watch him perform one of this magic tricks on stage – and he has really improved his pulling-rabbits-out-of-the-hat skills lately – it’s Dean. Only Dean is too cool for crappy school shows. He never participates in them, he never attends them and he would probably rather sit through a full hour of physics theory than willingly subject himself to that kind of torture. But Sam knows he has nothing to lose, so he walks over to his brother’s bed, sits next to the evenly breathing pile of clothes in its center and shakes his brother lightly.

“Dean.  _Hey, Dean._ ”

His brother lets out a soft grunt and a heavy arm rests on top of Sam’s head. “Mmmwht.”

“You sleepin’?” Sam says quickly, instantly realizing how stupid that sounds.

“No, I’m playing the bass,” Dean says, his voice deep and hoarse, just like it always is after waking up. He smells like cologne and leather and something sweet and familiar that Sam only knows as ‘Dean’.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“The answer is no, you can’t, you are too young to try LSD. Sorry, kiddo. Pot, on the other hand-”

“No, Dean, listen to me. There’s this, this show-“

“It’s called  _Friends_  and we watch it together.”

“Dean, please, let me finish. A talent show. At our school. This Friday. And I was wondering if you’d – you know, come and watch me ‘cause all the parents will be there and-“

“A talent show? Dude, really? Last time I checked you weren’t my son and I wasn’t a parent and talent shows sucked  _ass_.”

“Yeah but-“

“Wait, did you say this Friday?” Dean wrinkles his forehead as he sits up and rubs his eyes, a gesture that suddenly makes him look younger than he actually is. “Even if I wanted to come to your - your  _show_ ”, he accentuates the word in a way that stresses how ridiculous he finds the whole thing. “I can’t, I have a date with this insanely hot chick from my biology class. Dude, you should see her boo-  _eyes_. And I haven’t been laid in two months, Sam, do you know how long that is? It’s like – like, I don’t know, like you’d feel after a whole year of not writing into your funny little journal you’re always carrying around with you. Terrifyin’, ain’t it?”

Sam stares at his brother for a few seconds without saying a word. He is not disappointed. He is not. At least he thinks he isn’t. It’s not like he expected Dean to say yes, right? Because he didn’t. So he tried and he got the response he knew he would get and there’s nothing to be disappointed about. He nods lightly. “Yeah.”

“Good. And what in the hell are you gonna be doing in that show anyway? You won’t be singing, right? ’Cause Sammy, I hate to break it to you, but yours is not the most melodious of voices.”

But Sam is already getting up and walking away from the bed. “Never mind,” he says, as he goes to the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereals. The last thing he needs is Dean teasing him about pulling rainbows and butterflies out of his ass. Especially if he won’t be there to see it with his own eyes.

*

“Just breathe,” Sam hears someone behind him and, as he turns, he sees a girl from his English class smiling at him. “It helps.”

“Wh-“ he blinks at her, slightly confused. “Oh, I am not nervous. Much. I was just thinking about – yeah, I’m fine. So what’s your talent tonight?”

The girl beams at him. “Well, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you? And sooner than you think. That’s my cue. Good luck, Winchester. And remember – breathe!” she winks at him and before Sam even manages to say: “You too!”, she is already on stage.

She is handed a guitar and her voice fills the air. He instantly recognizes the song because it’s actually one of the regular tracks that his Dad and Dean play in the car when they’re on the road. Sam smiles against his will as he quietly begins to hum along. While it's a song usually sung by old gruff men, the girl is singing it so well and so convincingly that Sam can’t help but wish Dad and Dean were there to hear this. Sam knows Dean would approve of the girl’s music choice. He can clearly see his brother in his mind’s eye, bobbing his head up and down, unable to resist the urge to sing along. Sam finally becomes aware he’s been smiling all along and he freezes.  _No_. Dean is not there and it’s his loss and he just doesn’t  _care_. The song finishes and Sam applauds vigorously as he suddenly realizes he is next. One deep breath and he is already on stage, lights going directly into his eyes, his magic hat in his right hand and his left hand holding the microphone as he says:

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Sam Winchester, but you may call me the Amazing Sam for what you’re about to witness is nothing short of extraordinary.”

The lights go slightly dimmer and he can finally make out some of the faces in the crowd. Suddenly a couple of raised thumbs catch his attention and at first he thinks the light is playing a trick on him. But no, it is definitely a hand he knows as well as his own and that is definitely a smile he would recognize anytime and anywhere. His older brother Dean is sitting in the third row, shooting him one of his widest, goofiest grins and mouthing: “Knock ‘em dead, Sammy.” Sam knows he could’ve done this without Dean. He was prepared to do so, was he not? But he suddenly feels a lot more confident and inspired and he can’t stop his mouth from curving into a huge smile as he starts performing his first magic trick.

*

“I thought you said you had a date,” Sam says as he meets Dean in the hallway after the show.

“Yeah, well. Turns out her eyes were really not that special at all.”

“Unlike your brother,” Sam says teasingly.

“Hey, don’t push it,” Dean warns, but he ruffles Sam’s hair all the same. “I came here, didn’t I? Don’t make me sing your praises now, o  _Amazing Sam_. I still think talent shows are lame and that magic tricks are for kids.”

“But I  _am_  a kid.”

Dean stares at Sam and doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He finally looks away and says: “You must be starving. Wanna go grab a bite? There’s a diner nearby, they have these kick-ass hamburgers, even _you_ ’d like them.”

Sam knows he probably wouldn’t, but he nods. He knows there’s nothing that makes Dean happier than a really good hamburger. And besides, there’s bound to be something he likes too. There always is. So he smiles back at his brother and suddenly blurts out: “Thanks, Dean. It just - it really means a lot to me.”

“Woah, Sam, it’s just a hamburger, tone it down. People would think I usually let you starve to death,” but then he looks at Sam and nods, almost imperceptibly.

Sam knows that Dean knows. And it’s enough.


End file.
